Night of the Witches

“Luci! Why is our backyard full of perros?” Mamá’s voice rang out from the bottom of the stairs.

“It's not a public holiday, Mamá. People have to work. Therefore, I have to work.” I replied.

Mamá bustled into the bedroom I shared with my younger sister, Isadora. “Sí, but why are they here and not walking?”

Isa rolled her eyes and grinned at me before continuing to apply brightly colored flowers and designs to my face. Her expression was particularly ghoulish, seeing as she had already painted a skull on her face.

“We are taking them with us to the parade,” I assured her.

“Well, they better not tear up the yard,” she harumphed. “You need to find a better job, Luciana. I never thought a daughter of mine would be a dog walker.”

I sighed. We’d had this conversation before. “Mamá, a job is a job. It helps pay for college.” I also worked as a pet sitter when my clients were out of town and couldn't take their fur babies. I watered their plants along with feeding and keeping the animals company while I studied. Neither job paid much, but recommendations from my clients kept me working.

Mamá tsked as she deftly slid a few bobbie pins into my hair to hold the braids piled on my head. “You are graduating in the spring. How will you pay for Veterinary school?”

“I have been talking to the veterinarians in town. A couple are willing to take me on as a tech after graduation,” I replied. “I can take a few classes at a time. It will take longer, but I’ll get through it eventually.”

That seemed to placate Mamá. She turned her attention to my sister. “And you, Isa. Beauty school. Not even a proper degree.”

“It’s not beauty school,” Isa cried. “It's a Cosmetology and Costuming degree. After I graduate, I’m going to move to Hollywood and work for a movie studio.”

Mamá threw her hands in the air. “Hollywood. Do you really want to leave us that badly?”

“Can you blame me?” Isa muttered under her breath, causing me to snort. Louder, she said, “What do you want from me? Nothing I do will be good enough.”

“I want my daughters to have respectable careers. Your grandparents didn't come here and work their fingers to the bones for their grandchildren to do make-up and walk dogs.”

“Mamá. Luci will eventually become a doctor, and there is nothing wrong with being a make-up artist. I could even win awards for it.” Isa said.

Mamá harumphed as if she didn't seem convinced. “Make sure you visit the ofrenda before you leave for the festivities.” She went back downstairs, where we could hear her yelling at the dogs barking excitedly in the yard.

Isa and I slipped on our fancy skeleton dresses and ran down to grab the offerings from the kitchen for the altar. Mamá followed with a plate of fresh tortillas.

Papá stood before the altar, gently adjusting the framed photos nestled among the flickering candles. He beamed at us. “Ah, my beautiful girls.”

“Are you coming with us to the parade?” Isa asked, cuddling into his hug.

“No. I’ll stay here and keep your mother company,” he replied.

Mamá picked up the photo of Tío Santiago with a sniffle. It was the most recent addition to the ofrenda. Santi was Mamá’s brother. He died in a terrible car accident a few months ago. They were very close. All of us greatly missed him.

Tío Santi was only fifteen years older than me. He was always full of energy and always willing to play with me. My uncle introduced me to his favorite music and was far less serious than his older sisters. Tío Santi left a wife and two young children behind when he died. It was sad that his kids would grow up without him.

I looked at the other pictures on the table. Papá’s father, Abuelo Augustin, posed proudly in his Navy uniform. I made a mental note to visit Abuela Irene tomorrow. After my grandfather died, she moved into a senior living community. She was in good health but didn't want to stay in their home and refused to move in with us. Abuela Irene was having the time of her life. I hoped when I reached her age that, I would have as much energy.

The other two photos were of Mamá’s parents. Abuelo Esteban had worked hard, taking on any job required. He was quiet and thoughtful and loved to read. Abuela Magdalena was sweet and loving. She always gave us knowing looks and told us we would achieve great things.

I felt terrible for Mamá. She had lost so many of her loved ones in the last few years. Her sisters were still alive but had recently moved back to Mexico. They called each other all the time, but we didn't see them as often as we would like.

A moth fluttered over our heads as we knelt in prayer and came to rest on an old family portrait on the wall. It must have come in with me when I let the dogs loose in the yard. It wouldn't have been a problem if Mia was still sleeping. However, the cat chose that moment to pounce.

Isa cried out as Mia used her shoulder as a launching point. There was a thud and the sharp sound of breaking glass as the picture fell.

“Oh, ese gato travieso!” Mamá exclaimed, shaking her head at me.

“Don’t look at me. She’s your cat.” I said as I reached out to pick up the frame.

“No. You’ll cut yourself. I’ll get the broom.” Mamá said, heading to the kitchen.

I ignored her and carefully pulled the larger pieces of glass from where they stuck into the frame. This picture was one of my favorites. It had hung at my abuelos’ house throughout my childhood, only coming to hang on our wall after their deaths.

It showed a large family with dour-looking parents, Manuel and Consuela. I looked at each child as I remembered their names - Thiago, Leo, Ana, and Diego. The baby, Isabel, was Abuela Magdalena’s mother. Then there was Lucia, a girl of about five who peered intensely from the center of the group.

As I took the photo out to inspect it for damage, a piece of paper with a strange symbol drawn on it fluttered to the floor. Isa grabbed the paper.

“What is this?” she asked.

Mamá returned with broom and dustpan in hand. She gasped when she saw the paper. “Get rid of that! Burn it!”

“Why?” Isa pressed.

“It must have come from Tía Lucia. There was something strange about her. She made me nervous whenever we’d go back to Mexico to visit.” Mamá said. “I used to hear whispers in town that she was a bruja.”

Isa burst out laughing. “Don’t be ridiculous. There’s no such thing as witches.” I watched as she slipped the paper into a pocket in her skirt. It was curious that she hadn’t discarded it.

“Why did you name me after Tía Lucia if you were scared of her?” I asked.

“You were named after your father’s Abuela Luciana. I would never have named you after Tía Lucia.” Mamá sniffed as she began sweeping.

With the glass sufficiently cleaned up, Mamá pressed a basket with food and candles into my hands. “I can tell you not to sneak into the cemetery, but I know you won't listen.”

“We’re not exactly sneaking. Nick will let us in along with everyone else.” I said. “The cemetery shouldn't be closed on el Dia de los Muertos anyway. I'm pretty sure the owners know we’re there but ignore it.”

We headed out back to get the dogs. I laughed as Isa helped me put on their leashes. She wrapped them in pieces of black material with white felt canine bones attached. Our Labrador Shepherd mix, Lobo, and Papá’s old Bassett Hound, Fído, excitedly joined the pack.

Soon, we were in the heart of the Dia de los Muertos celebrations. It only covered a two-block area of our San Antonio neighborhood, but it was jam-packed with vendors selling food and flowers. We called out “Feliz dia de los Muertos!” to our friends and neighbors as we shopped.

We bought a bunch of marigolds, some of which we tucked into our hair to form crowns. The rest went into the basket to add to our offerings at the cemetery. Some pan de muerto and sugar skulls joined our haul.

As the sun set, we joined the revelers in an informal parade. Our pack of skeletal dogs was definitely a hit. We ducked out as the moon rose to return the canines to their owners before heading to the local cemetery. It might have been easier to take Fído and Lobo home, but Mamá preferred we keep them with us for our protection. Not that Fído was much help. He was old and slow. The excitement of the evening had pretty much done him in.

I saw Nick patrolling near the cemetery gates. I had known him nearly forever. We had become friends in Kindergarten and attended the same schools through our senior year. Nick was one of the kindest people I had ever met. While we were still friends, the demands of college and our work schedules left us little time for more than a few texts here and there.

Isa and I looked at each other and grinned. Nick hadn't seen us yet. We walked up behind him as quietly as possible. Just as I reached out to tap him on the shoulder, Fído moaned mournfully. Nick spun around, the beam from his flashlight swinging across our skull-painted faces.

“Arrgh! You almost gave me a heart attack.” he cried with his hand on his chest.

Isa laughed. “You knew we were coming.”

“Yeah, but still...cemetery...skeletons,” Nick muttered. “Besides, I was distracted and didn't notice you arrive.”

I thanked him as he opened the gate to let us slip through.

Nick stopped me before we continued to our family plot. “Listen, Luci. I need to ask you something. I know we’ve always been friends, but I like you. I mean, I’ve always liked you, but I like you like you. Ugh, why am I getting tongue-tied? You’re beautiful and funny, and I don't know. Luci, would you have dinner with me sometime?”

The shock of Nick asking me out left me momentarily mute. I had no idea he was even interested in me. I smiled brightly and said, “I’m Isadora.” but immediately regretted my jest.

Nick deflated. “Even with the makeup, I know the difference between you two. Isa is taller and sort of titters when she laughs. You are softer but have a warm chuckle that sounds like molten chocolate.”

His description of my laugh shook me. It was obviously something he had been thinking about for a while. Truth was, I’d had a crush on him since I was about sixteen. He’d never given me any indication that he’d want the same thing.

“I’m sorry. It was stupid to even ask.” Nick continued.

I reached out to touch his arm. “No. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have teased you. I was just surprised. And I would love to go out with you.”

Nick smiled in relief. “Let me walk you to your plot.”

“We know how to get there,” Isa said.

“Hush, Isa.” I linked arms with Nick and spoke quietly with him as we walked.

When we reached the family stones, we looked on solemnly for a moment. The loss of Tío Santi was still too fresh.

We set out the food and candles. Lights flickered, and soft laughter sounded from the other plots where the few other families at the cemetery gathered. Most people contented themselves with home altars and the block party. It wasn’t like in Mexico, where the living outnumbered the dead in the cemeteries on Dia de los Muertos.

Fído flopped down and lay on the ground. Lobo sat on his haunches as if on guard duty, but the tongue lolling from his mouth was proof of what a loveable goofball he was. Isa knelt to light the candles while I pulled a foil-wrapped package from the basket and handed it to Nick.

“I thought you might want something to eat,” I said, smiling as he took it gratefully and hungrily tucked in.

“What is this?” Isa asked before retrieving the slip of paper purloined from the picture frame.

I sat beside her and looked at what she pointed at on the headstone. There was a tiny symbol etched into the stone near the ground. There had been a semicircular crack there for as long as I could remember, but I had never noticed the rune before. Maybe it had been hidden by grass or a clod of dirt.

Isa reached out and touched the marking. “The stone is loose.” She said as she began wiggling it. Soon we were peering into a dark hole in the tombstone. I held one of the candles closer to reveal the dull glitter of glass where the light of the flame hit it.

“If anyone asks, I didn't see anything,” Nick said as I reached in to pull it out.

What I held in my hand was a small jar that seemed filled with layers of something resembling dirt. It was hard to tell exactly because it was dark and the glass was filthy. A scroll of paper hung from the lid, tied with a tattered ribbon.

Isa carefully took the scroll off the jar and unrolled it. In the candlelight, we could barely make out a series of words written in Spanish.

“Magick of my family. Power of my blood. I call my magick back to me.It fills me like a flood.”

We whispered these words with confused and shaking voices. A distant wind whistled through the trees bringing with it a slight chill. Otherwise, it was ominously quiet.

Lobo chose that moment to let out a sharp bark, startling me. The jar fell from my hand, shattering as it hit the headstone. A strange cold fog enveloped us. It seeped away before swirling into a human shape.

My jaw dropped as I stared at a feisty-looking transparent woman dressed in old-fashioned Mexican attire.

“It’s about time one of you found my spell jar,” she huffed. “I thought I was going to have to wait another generation. Not that either of you is doing anything to bring that about.”

There was something familiar about the fierce look in her eyes. “Tía Lucia?”

“Sí. I always knew you were the smart one.”

“Hey!” Isa exclaimed. “Wait. Spell jar? You really were a bruja?”

“Of course. And now you and your sister will join me.” The laugh she emitted was just short of a cackle. “It was supposed to be your mother. I could sense the power in her, but she was scared and pushed it so deep inside that it nearly suffocated. She couldn't stop from passing it down to you, though.”

Isa looked down at the shards of glass poking up from a pile of dust. “Were you in that jar? Like a genie or something?”

“Eh. More or less. I prepared the jar before my death then my cousin added my ashes to it.” Tía Lucia said. “But you should be careful when speaking of the djinn. They are not to be trifled with.”

“So you did blood magic?” Isa sounded nervous.

“There was no evil intent in my spell,” she replied. “It was mostly salt and herbs with a few crystals. And the ashes, of course. I wasn't trapped inside. It was meant to bring my spirit to whoever opened the jar.”

“You said we are witches now. How does that work?” I was more intrigued than scared. “I mean, are we supposed to go around hexing people?”

Tía Lucia laughed again. “You can hex people if you want, but you’d better make damned sure they deserve it. Karma has a way of biting you in the butt.”

She looked me in the eyes and continued, “Luciana, you have a way with animals. You can use the magic of the Universe to help you to heal them. And you, Isadora, are good with people. You can help them achieve their dreams if they are worthy.”

“But I don't know how to do that,” Isa said.

“That is why I am here. I will teach you. Most of it involves stating your intentions, but there are things that can add power to your words.” Tía Lucia replied.

Isa and I exchanged a look. “We can't tell Mamá about this,” Isa insisted.

“Uh, no.” I turned back to the ghost of our great aunt. “Where are you planning to teach us to do magick? Mamá will not take it well if she finds you in our house.”

“I’ll come to you at your boyfriend’s home,” she replied. “You two will have children with much power.”

“My boyfr...we just...” I had nearly forgotten Nick was there. I looked at him questioningly. “Are you okay with this?”

“The kids or the ghost holding witch school in my apartment?” Nick shrugged and gave me a crooked smile. “My favorite aunt is a psychic medium. You know, I’ve always been interested in paranormal stuff. This sort of thing doesn't phase me.”

“That’s settled then,” Tía Lucia said. “Tell your mother this if you can find a way to broach it. Santiago is fine. He is with his parents and the rest of the ancestors.”

“Thank you. I will.” I said as she faded from sight.

“Well, that was weird,” Isa blew out the candles, and we packed everything up.

At the cemetery gate, Nick squeezed my hand. “Is tomorrow night okay for that dinner?”

“Yes, I’d like that.” I leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek, but he moved at the last second, and his lips caught mine. I could hear Isa snickering behind me.

I can honestly say the night had not gone as expected, but I am excited to see what is to come.